What the fuck happened last night? I couldn't have had more than five or six drinks, but I was wrecked. All I can think is that the drinks were more potent than they seemed.

Who knows?

Either way, here is the wrap up. I spent money that I couldn't afford to spend. I said some wildly inappropriate things, which are not to be repeated on anybody's blogs. I spoke with MAK's mom. I dared one of the blogger boys to whip it out; he sort of complied. I'm pretty sure we forgot to call Zenchick, but I'm not absolutely certain. I finally met Jess and Marc. I fell asleep in the taxi. I didn't get sick. I didn't get a good night's sleep. I feel like crap today.

And oddly enough, I had a dream last night that featured two of the blogger boys. And it wasn't one of those dreams, though it was rather odd. And neither of the blogger boys were zombies, so it wasn't too bad.

Assuming everything goes as planned, in a couple of weeks, three of my favorite bloggers will be in New York.  I'm so incredibly excited!

But tonight, I'm drinking with the blogger boys (which, technically, now includes blogger girls).  I hope I make it to work tomorrow.

I keep forgetting to mention that twice now while I've been on my long-ass walks, I've seen Wayne (no, not this Wayne), the gay guy who was made over on Queer Eye a couple of weeks ago.

Both times he was walking up 8th Ave., seeming to relish and be amused by all the looks and whispers he inspired as he walked by.  He's still looking fairly stylish and he's better looking in person than he was on tv.

And speaking of my long-ass walks, if any of you ever find yourself in Chelsea around 9 p.m. or so and want to join me, you're welcome to.  8th Ave. to Hudson to Houston to 6th Ave. to 23rd St. to 8th Ave.  It's actually a really nice walk, especially when I'm down on 6th around Bleeker.  Helloooooo, NYU boys.

I'm "Back"

As many of you eventually figured out, yesterday's post was not actually written by Hot Toddy.  It was, in fact, an elaborate practical joke played on a blogger that we all love and admire (and, of course, secretly lust after).

He was, as we had hoped, mortified and amused.

Personally, the thing that got me laughing the hardest was the picture of Hot Toddy with the cast of 'The Jeffersons'.  Though why, oh why, did Chrisafer have to cover up poor Florence's face.  Didn't she suffer enough having to serve the nouveau riche Jeffersons?  (Or should that be nouveaux riches Jeffersons?)  He should have covered Jenny Willis's face instead.  Then Toddy and Lionel could have been a couple (under the watchful eye, no doubt, of obviously gay though trying to pass for straight Mr. Bentley).  Ah, well, if ifs and buts were candy and nuts . . .

Anyway, nothing much to report in my life, hence the reason I so enjoyed writing about Toddy's.

Took a long-ass walk on Monday night.  Got stood up for coffee.  Sulked.

Tuesday I kept up with my week of getting to work obscenely early.  Obsessively checked my Gmail and the sites of my co-conspirators.  Got no work done.  Walked home in the pouring rain.  Got soaked despite my (sucky) umbrella.  After the rain stopped, I went shopping so I could make hummus and another batch of the chicken dish (this time I'm going to try mozzarella and tomato instead of the herbed goat cheese).  By the time I was done shopping, the rain had started again, with a vengence.  Got absolutely soaked walking home because I didn't bring my (sucky) umbrella.

Blew off a rugby team meeting last night.  Decided that life was too short for me to deal with what I knew would be a long annoying meeting.

Today, I got up late but still managed to make my hummus and get to work early.  Go me!!

Here is the hummus recipe I used.  It's something I got from Alton Brown's Good Eats.

1 can chickpeas
3 cloves garlic (my garlic had gone bad so I used garlic powder)
3 Tbs. smooth peanut butter
Juice of one lemon
1 handful fresh parsley
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
Dash of salt
Pinch of pepper

Put all of the above in a food processor or blender and process or blend the hell out of it.

It's okay, not great.  The thing that turns me off about it is using the peanut butter instead of tahini.  It's a little too sweet.  And I bought a no-sugar-added peanut butter.  Plus, the tahini (sesame paste) has a smoky flavor that I really like.

Next time, I'm going to use tahini and probably add a little hot pepper.

My Ass Is Going To Be Everywhere

Hot Toddy here, guestblogging while Crash is off downloading porn or cooking or whatever it is he does.  Since everyone is asking me to guest blog today, I guess I'll need to keep this short.  But I wanted to make the announcement here since everyone reads this blog.

I'm going to be famous!

You remember my show Naked! ?  Of course you do.  It turns out that a famous Hollywood producer saw the show.  How a famous Hollywood producer ended up in Portland, I don't know.  Maybe he was stalking me.

After the show he came over to talk to me.

HIM: Your ass is amazing.

ME: I know . . . I mean, thank you.

HIM: It's like Brad Pitt's and Matt Damon's and Colin Farrell's . . . it's . . . well, it's Every Ass.

ME:  Um . . . what?

HIM: On film, I mean.  Your ass could pass for anyone's.  You have to come to Hollywood with me and be an ass-double.  I'm going to make your ass famous.  Believe me, after a year working with me, your ass will be everywhere.  It will be the buzz.  Your ass will be on everyone's lips.

ME:  Okay, I'm leaving now.

Sure, it sounded too good to be true.  Turns out it wasn't.  I'll be filming my first movie this fall.  It's a demanding schedule because I'll be the ass-double for not one, but TWO famous Hollywood stars.  I can't tell you their names, but they rhyme with Nen Naffleck and Natt Namon.  So remember, when you see their next movie and you're salivating over their naked buttocks, you'll actually be salivating over mine.  Twice!!

This turn of events led to a problem.  What to do with Yum Yum Brotherhood.  Well, I thought and I thought.  And I thought some more.  Then my head hurt so I took a nap.  Then I thought a little more and it didn't hurt this time.  Then it hit me.

Every star needs groomers.

So I got the producer to hire the Yum Yums to be my official ass groomers.  We haven't decided who's going to do make up and who's going to do hair and who's going to be the official masseur; I guess I'll let them decide.  The important thing is they will all be there, sharing my six-bedroom Malibu beach home (thanks to the studio).  Life will be great.

I have one other little bit of news . . . Fox approached me to see about doing a reality series about my ass's first movie.  I haven't decided yet.  I don't want America to get tired of my ass too soon.  I mean, who wants to be the next J.Lo?

Posted by Guest Blogger Hot Toddy on July 27, 2004

In an effort to help me save money, someone conveniently dropped a $20 bill on 23rd Street and 9th Avenue Saturday.  I think more people need to do that (assuming, of course, that I'm always to be the person to find the money).

To the anonymous person who dropped the $20, thank you.

In an effort to thwart the universe's good intentions, I squandered what little money remains in my account on a ticket to De-Lovely (which I thoroughly enjoyed) and dinner at the Coffee Shop on Union Square Sunday night.  Hah, take that, universe!  Anyway, the dinner and movie were just what the doctor (if not my wallet) ordered.  I went with English David . . . good company for a movie like this.

Saturday was all about running around the city.  Farmer's market, Starbucks, Chelsea Market, Garden of Eden (grocery store), back to the Farmer's market.  East side, west side, all around the town.  But then, if I hadn't been walking all over the place, someone less deserving would have found the twenty.

That night, I hung out with a friend who just broke up with his boyfriend.  Not much that I can do about that other than be there for him to talk to.  So that's what I did.  I may not be good at much, but I am a decent, if somewhat fidgety, listener.  Later we took a long walk.  Nice.

I love taking walks and am glad to be doing it again.  I find that I sleep much better if I take a long walk before bed.  I wish there were more time to do things like that.

In an effort to save money, I've started cooking again instead of going out all the time.  I love to cook, but I also love the convenience of just running to the deli for a sandwich when I come home from work.  So for this to work, the recipes have to be simple and fast.

Today I had to get to the office very early (about two hours earlier than I normally drag my ass into work).  Since I was paranoid about oversleeping (and had been having bad dreams so I couldn't really sleep anyway) I woke up much earlier than normal.  Finding myself with some free time, I cooked lunch/dinner for the week.  Here it is, a recipe from the Barefoot Countessa, modified by Crash.

4  split Chicken Breasts, bone-in with skin
1  7 oz. stick of dill goat cheese
4 Basil leaves
Olive Oil
Salt
Pepper

Peel back the skin from the chicken breasts, insert two fairly thick pieces of goat cheese and a basil leaf under the skin.  Drizzle with olive oil.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Bake on a baking sheet for 35-40 min. at 375°.

I haven't tasted the chicken yet (lunch is still an hour away), but it smelled amazing.

Tonight when I get home, I'm planning to make hummus.  If I do, I'll post the recipe tomorrow.

The House voted on H.R. 3313 which says that the Federal Courts (including the Supreme Court) have no jurisdiction over cases against the Defense of Marriage Act.  Here are the Democrats who voted, ultimately, against gay marriage.

Alexander
Berry
Boucher
Boyd
Carson (OK)
Chandler
Costello
Cramer
Davis (TN)
Edwards
Gordon
Herseth
Holden
John
Lucas (KY)
Marshall
Matheson
McIntyre
Peterson (MN)
Rahall
Ross
Sandlin
Skelton
Stenholm
Tanner
Taylor (MS)
Turner (TX)

Okay, now it is highly unlikely that anyone who reads my blog lives in one of these districts, but if you do, please write your Rep. and give him or her a piece of your mind.

Many of these folks have their e-mail set up in such a way that only constituents can e-mail them, but for those who don't, I'd suggest dropping them a line to let them know how you feel.  Sure, they probably won't do anything about it, but at least an intern somewhere will know that you're disappointed.

Oh, and just because it's the right thing to do, take a minute to see how your representative voted.  Then click here to send an e-mail telling them what you think about their vote.

George W. Bush . . . Worse Than Zombies?

Last night I had the strangest dream . . . well, okay, it wasn't last night, it was Monday night.  And it wasn't the strangest dream.  But it was weird.

All I remember is this: I was on Air Force One, sitting next to the Mono Loco, when I made a joke about his inability to pronounce the word 'nuclear' (for those of you not in the know, he pronounces it 'newkewler'.  Ah, that Yale edumacation.).  Then he slapped me.  Right in the face.

Sure, it wasn't as horrible as being chased by flesh-eating zombies, but it was horrifying in its own special way.

Tempus fugit, even when you're not having fun

So I meant to write about this weekend on Monday, now it's Wednesday.  Oops.

I suppose I should first say that I attended Frank's birthday party last Thursday at the 10th Avenue Lounge (I believe the sign said 'Xth Ave. Lounge').  Fun time.  MAK and PatCH were there, among others.  Lots of booze.  Mild groping.  You know, the usual.

Saturday morning I got up at 5:30 a.m. to catch my 7 a.m. train to Baltimore.  I was greeted at the station by Ms. Uvula, David and Rob.  The day was spent hitting yard sales, visiting all the booths at ArtScene (I think that's what it's called), and ignoring David's constant zombie talk.  I bought a lovely print of a collage at ArtScene.  Now I just need to get it framed.  I also bought 8 or so books at the various yard sales.  Damn my compulsive book-buying.  Ah, well.

Speaking of books, I read Alex Sanchez' new book 'So Hard to Say'.  Interesting.  First time I've read a glbt book aimed at a Jr. High crowd.  His writing is getting much better since his first novel.

After all the walking around, we were joined by Zenchick for dinner.  And what a dinner it was.  Rob is an amazing cook.  After dinner, we were joined by Jwer, Cara and her friends Jane and James (I think . . . I'm terrible with names), and Michael and John (I think . . . see previous comment).  Anyway, the company was terrific.  Gay men, straight men, women and one particularly cute Boston Terrier.  Add in a bunch of Mojitos and a fabulous flourless chocolate cake, and you know the party is going to be good.  And it really, really was.

In fact, Saturday pretty much made up for all of the bullshit I've been dealing with for the last few months.

Sunday was pretty laid back and involved significantly less walking.  Rob, David and I had a leisurely breakfast of homemade (from scratch) pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon.  When I win the lotto, I'm hiring Rob to be my live in chef.  After breakfast we watched a little tv and did crossword puzzles.  Fun stuff.  We caught a movie later in the day.  Napoleon Dynamite.  Odd little film.  But worth seeing.  Especially at Baltimore prices ($6).  Not long after that, it was time to head home.

It was a fantastic weekend and not only because I absolutely love spending time with David and Rob.  It was great hanging out with Zenchick, especially getting to see her on her own turf.  I also enjoyed meeting Jwer and Cara.  Jwer told me lots of stories about David's college years.  Mwa ha ha ha ha.  And of course, it's always great getting to be Uncle Crash for Goblin, though I wish she wouldn't chew on my beard quite so much.  At least she isn't a great dane.

It's important to have friends who recharge your batteries and renew your creativity.  Between talking theater and cooking with Rob, and talking about writing and life with David, I came back feeling so much better than I had in ages.  Then came the meat grinder . . . but that's New York for you.  The point is, I feel better now than I have in ages, even if I'm freaked out by some of the decisions I need to make.

I also started writing again.  A play based on something that Rob and I talked about and a musical that I've been meaning to write for a while and kept putting off.  Now it seems I need to have a musical in order to apply for one of the programs I'm contemplating.  Seems like a pretty good reason to write one.

It's nice to have a sense of purpose again.  I hope it doesn't morph into a feeling of being completely overwhelmed.  We'll see.

It's amazing how I can have a fantastic weekend (which I will post about when I get home), full of friends and conversation, which leaves me renewed and full of purpose, only to come to back to New York and after a few hours feel like I've been through a meat grinder.
 
Some conclusions I came to this weekend and today:
 
1) I have to change my job.  Either quit or come up with some way to make it less soul-crushing.
 
2) It's time to go back to school.  Whether it is for my Ph.D or, as was suggested to me this weekend, the MFA program at NYU, I'm ready.
 
3)  For years I've toyed with the idea of starting a playwriting competition for gay and lesbian youth.  It's time to make that a reality, too.
 
4)  I'm tired of being in debt.
 
5)  I need to make my apartment feel like a home rather than a dorm.
 
If only I knew how to do any of this.

Since I'm not in much of a mood to write, here are the lyrics to one of my favorite songs, 'Hard Times Come Again No More', written by Stephen Foster in 1850.  I couldn't track down a music file, so you'll just have to admire the poetry of the lyrics.  When the music is added, and played well, it is a beautifully haunting song.
 
HARD TIMES COME AGAIN NO MORE
by Stephen Foster
 
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears
While we all sup sorrow with the poor
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears
Oh, hard times come again no more
 
Chorus:
'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary
Hard times, hard times, come again no more
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door
Oh, hard times come again no more
 
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay
There are frail forms fainting at the door
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say
Oh, hard times come again no more.
 
Chorus
 
There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away
With a worn heart whose better days are o'er
Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day
Oh, hard times come again no more
 
Chorus
 
'Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave
'Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
'Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
Oh, hard times come again no more.
 
'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary
Hard times, hard times, come again no more
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door
Oh, hard times come again no more
 
Oh, hard times come again no more

La Fée Verte

Last night, during a meeting, I noticed the green fairy perched on a shelf. She wasn't the shy, retiring kind, who easily blended into the sea of brown that surrounded her. No, she sat there, front and center, brazenly daring me to stare at her.

I knew I had to meet her.

After we adjourned and the others left, I mentioned to our host that I had seen her sitting across the room from me. I explained my long-time fascination with her, this muse who had known Verlaine, Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Wilde and so many others whom I admire.

I hinted that we had never, in fact, met.

Good friend that he is, he arranged an introduction.

The glass. The sugar. The preparation, a tea ceremony of sorts, whets the appetite. The water turns her vibrant green to pearlescent white. The taste. Herbal, like hay and spices. Not sweet. Not bitter. Comfortable. The taste and smell linger. Lulling.

I understand why she exerted such influence.

After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally, you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.
- Oscar Wilde

In case I didn't make my point on Friday, call or e-mail your Senators today and let them know you are against the FMA. Whether you see this as a violation of gay rights, civil rights, states' rights, whatever. Just do it.

Don Wildmon and the friendly folks at the American Family Association have declared Monday, July 12, to be Phone Your Senator Day. They're encouraging all of "God's People" to call their senators to let them know they are opposed to gay marriage.

On Monday, please go to this site. Find the contact info for your senators and let them know how you feel about gay marriage. Sure, they will be getting more calls and e-mails from the bigots and homophobes, but every single e-mail and call they get from one of us will help counter a little bit of the hate.

Please pass this info around.

One of the other little ironic things in the e-mail from Don "hate the sin, not the sinner . . . ah, what the hell, hate the sinner, too" Wildmon is that he's declared Sunday to be Protect Marriage Sunday. He's encouraging pastors to denounce gay marriage from the pulpit and (here's the ironic part) to "discuss the threat of gay marriage" in Sunday School. Here is a man who was up in arms that schools were going to talk about homosexuality in health and sex ed classes because, as he said at the time, children shouldn't be exposed to homosexuality. Apparently what he meant was that children shouldn't be exposed to anything pro-homosexuality or homosexuality-neutral. But if you want to bash the gays, heck, let's have the kids do it in Sunday school.

Cretin.

Please don't forget to contact your senator on Monday. I'm sure Hillary is getting tired of my e-mails, but that's what she's there for.

I've been a bad blogger lately. I'd love to say that it's because I've been busy living my fun-filled fabulous life, but the truth is, I've been tired and down and not wanting to do anything.

But I've been forcing myself to do things (pro-active depression Flip called it), so I can at least blog about all the stuff I've been zombie-walking through.

I've been hanging out with Mike a lot. After not having seen him more than once every couple of months, I'm seeing him a few times a week. It's been nice. But it's going to suck when David gets back and we stop spending time together again. See how I always manage to find the cloud lurking inside the silver lining.

I won tickets to My Big Gay Italian Wedding, with special guest star James from Boy Meets Boy. Suffice it to say that you know you're in trouble when the pretty boy from TV is the best "actor" in the show. The sad thing is, it wasn't a horrible show. Or at least, it wouldn't have been with a little work. The script needed some editing. And the fellow who wrote it needed some coaching on how to write group scenes. He had a good ear for dialogue, but he couldn't handle having more than two or three characters interacting at any given time. So while those three actors were speaking, the rest of the cast either silently ad-libbed (usually very over-the-top focus-stealing stuff) or just stood there with their thumbs up their asses, looking blank. All of that could have been taken care of with a good director, someone who could even out the business. And a couple of the actors were so completely over the top that they weren't even funny.

Ah well. I suppose I shouldn't bitch about it too much. After all, this guy's play is being produced. None of mine are.

Sigh.

And we're moving on.

Saturday I watched the USA v. France rugby match in beautiful East Hartford, CT. Very hot. Very sunny. Good time. I remembered to wear sunscreen so I didn't wind up looking like some sort of lobster boy. The only semi-annoying part about the game was the drunk idiot behind us who kept yelling 'fuck you, France' and 'your queen's a whore'. I'm assuming he went to public school. Probably in New Jersey.

The best part about the game was the eye candy. Loads and loads of hot college ruggers in various states of undress. One or two looked like they'd stepped from the pages of the Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue. Bastards.

Didn't do much Sunday or Monday. Watched the fireworks from my roof. Went to Mike's and watched movies. That's it. Kind of boring.

Watched Spider-Man on Tuesday. I thought it was great. Well worth the price of admission (which is how I judge movies these days). Great special effects. Good villain. Gorgeous James Franco. And Bruce Campbell (who can do no wrong in my book . . . well, his role on Xena notwithstanding) has a very funny cameo.

Now all I have to do is see Fahrenheit 9/11 and De-Lovely and I'm pretty much caught up on movies. Actually, I'll probably just rent De-Lovely.

Isn't this odd? I always figured Peter Jennings be the first one to go postal.

Fine. Fuck it. Whatever.

And that, gentle readers, has been my entire day.

Just wrote my rent check. Amusingly, the amount of money in my account is somewhat less than the amount of the check.

Well, thank God it's only a week and a half until pay day. Of course, I have bills to pay before then. And I have to take a trip down to mom's house. And buy her a birthday present. And buy food.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Maybe it's time to start selling my possessions on eBay. Or Stuff's possessions. Yeah, that sounds better. Teach him to give me a key to his apartment.

But I guess that would be bad karma.

Oh, well.

Anyone want to buy some porn?

Quote of the Day
Some people think the use of profanity demonstrates limited intelligence, but they can go fuck themselves.
-- Famous Author Rob Byrnes